


Guidance

by Angelwingsl3 (Marie_Fanwriter)



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Drabble Collection, Family, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Mild Language, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-19 07:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16529711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marie_Fanwriter/pseuds/Angelwingsl3
Summary: Before Adrien Victus became a Primarch, he became a father.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Some_Writer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Writer/gifts).



> This story is inspired by my recipient, Some_Writer. I've included an except below from their story, [**Raking Over the Ashes**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12192825), which gave me a lot of the ideas. I hope that's okay!
> 
>  
> 
> **Excerpt:**  
>  _Yet, as he met the vicious eyes of the Councilor, the initial shock of fear that he felt upon meeting his gaze vanished. Though the eyes were colder and harder, they were still his father's. This was the man that raised him, took care of him when he was sick, taught him to shoot, taught him to fight, taught him a second language, and ultimately pushed him to be all that he could be in his career. This was the man that took the time to sit with him when he'd had a bad day at school and, later in his life, just to catch up after being away on their respective missions._
> 
>  
> 
> _This was the man that had been guiding him over the last four years without either of their awareness._

Part 1

\---

“Are you  _ certain _ this is normal?” Adrien asked for what must have been the hundredth time in the past few months. He sat in the same exam room as the last three times he’d been in the Doctor’s office this week, his back to a wall painted with pictures of clouds.

As always, he was met with a lopsided grin from the pediatric resident, Pelen. “I’m positive, Captain. Down starts to moult around now, he’ll be featherless in a couple days.”

Adrien let out a sigh of relief, not only for the fact that his son was progressing as expected but also for the fact the resident seemed to be quite happy to answer the endless number of questions he had. Magrim was away on her first tour since his birth, and he’d reassured her everything would be fine.

And it was.

Mostly.

Adjusting Tarquin in the crook of his arm, Adrien ensured that he had a good hold on his son. For such a small being, he was quite rambunctious and prone to climbing. And also starting to gain weight at a fast enough clip that he wouldn’t fit in Magrim’s cowl by the time she returned. It was bittersweet watching him grow without her there to witness it alongside him.

He was brought out of the reverie by a polite hum.

“Did you have any other questions, sir?” Pelen asked him as he wiggled a talon in Tarquin’s face, bending to the fledgling’s level to flare his mandibles at him. The young turian was just a talon-width shorter than Adrien himself, with dark plates against clean white Cipritine markings. Tarquin seemed to like him as he made a pleased trill and grabbed for the finger. 

“A million,” Adrien sighed, looking down at Tarquin again. He could feel his mandibles shift into a warm smile. “But we’ll manage. Thank you again for your time.”

“Of course, sir.” Pelen took a step back in the small office, allowing Adrien to rise and head for the door. When he reached it, he heard an encouraging hum: “Good luck.”

In return, the Captain hummed his gratitude and flicked one of his heavy mandibles in a smile before heading out into the waiting room. There were a fair number of other fledglings waiting to be seen, a whole aerie’s worth. His gaze fell back to his son, one was good for now. One he could handle.

\---


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

\---

Adrien crept out of the bedroom and padded down the hallway toward the kitchen. All his years of military experience had prepared him for this day, a morning where he might manage to sneak out before Magrim woke up. His bare feet made nary a sound against the tile and being nude as he typically slept there was no cloth to brush against his plates. The cool morning air remained undisturbed by his passage, all according to plan.

Of the two of them, Adrien was the heavier sleeper. Usually, by the time he rose, his mate was already halfway through a mug of kava and crest-deep into whatever project she’d taken to working on. He’d wander by the spread of datapads and holo images strewn over the dining room table, brushing his brow against her’s before turning to find himself a cup of his own morning stimulant.

 _“It’s in the kitchen, Private,”_ she’d mutter with distracted affection.

The thought of their comfortable ritual brought a grin to his mandibles. Now, however, Magrim was sleeping soundly, Tarquin swaddled in her arms. Their son had awoken with a wail about two hours into the night cycle, babbling about a nonsense stream of nightmare fears, and had kept the pair of them -mostly Mags- up for a good chunk of the night. An extra half-hour of rest would do them both some good.

Adrien Victus was well aware he was not a great cook, but he could at least make them breakfast... _probably._

He set about getting the kava ready first, that was easy enough. Adrien searched through the drawer for the pre-ground leaves to steep and set the water to boil. Afterward, stifling a yawn of his own, Adrien fetched a pair of mugs and set them out, too.

His mandibles shifted as he looked through the cooling unit. Neither he nor Magrim really _cooked_ very often, too busy to get into it and well enough off to afford decently healthy takeout on a regular basis. As such… the ingredient roster was a bit on the scarce side. He settled for warmed slices of breakfast meats and dipping sauce, with a few preserved vegetables on the side to give the spread a little colour. The act of simply heating the food was basic enough that even he couldn’t mess it up.

With all of the components pulled out and set onto the counter, Adrien bent to fetch a pan. He rose, testing the heft of a skillet as he deemed it sizable enough for his purposes. Across the island countertop, a pair of large sea-green eyes were staring at him, bright and curious. Only good reflexes kept the pan from meeting the floor and spoiling his surprise.

Tarquin was awake and, apparently, even sneakier than he was.

“Good morning, son,” his subvocals hummed quietly with some small amount of chagrin as he set the skillet on the counter before rounding the surface to bump his crest against Tarquin’s. And, conveniently, to be in range for whispers.

“Dad!” Tarquin chirped happily from the stool he was precariously kneeling on.

“Hush…” Adrien purred, his talons moving through the Hierarchy symbol for silence without a second thought. He helped his child sit a little more securely in the chair before continuing: “Your mom is sleeping.”

“ _Dad!_ ” the little imp hummed happily in a loud whisper, making Adrien chuckle. The rumble passed between them and only after Tarquin buzzed a question did he pull away. “What doing?”

“Making breakfast,” Adrien said as he returned to the opposite side of the counter.

“I help!” he declared, scooting down from the stool and beginning to drag it across the floor.

_Screeee..._

With all the speed he could muster, Adrien swept in and moved the stool for him, trying to keep the noise down. Tarquin’s tiny mandibles shifted into a frown, pulling into his jawline.

Adrien sighed, offering him a hand up. “You can help,” he said and then preempted the pleased squawk with an: “As long as you’re quiet.”

“Yes, dad!” came in another excited whisper.

He could have sworn he heard a chuckle from down the hallway but it wasn’t until the kava was ready and the meats were fried that Magrim appeared. Today, it was her crest that pressed against his as she reached for the warm cup of kava. The content rumble of her subvocals and knowing smile as they ate made the effort entirely worthwhile.

\---


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, this is a sad one!

Part 3

\---

The first days after Magrim died, were some of the worst in Adrien’s life. 

Had it not been for the fledgling sleeping down the hall, he wouldn’t have been able to continue getting up each day. Tarquin needed him. Adrien knew that even when he’d been busy drowning his sorrows in alcohol and raging at the Spirits. They could not help him. It wasn’t how Spirits worked. But they’d punished him for his indiscretion all the same.

Adrien adjusted himself on the couch, his back hurt. A self-depreciating huff left his chest, Magrim had admonished him more than once for falling asleep out here. He could hear her voice in his head still. Calling him ‘Private’ and telling him to get up, he was going to hurt himself. But he hadn’t been able to sleep in his own room. Not with Magrim’s scent lingering there.

One of his hands rose to rub his eyes and then back along his crest. Today he was supposed to visit the Hierarchy legal staff, set up a plan for Tarquin should he die in the line of duty as well. Eventually, Adrien knew he’d be sent out again. Tarquin needed to be taken care of. His line of work wasn’t safe, he worked on the front lines. It should have been him, not Mags that died.

The whooshing sound of a door opening pulled him out of his head. Dropping his hand to look down the hallway, he saw Tarquin with one of Magrim’s shirts held tightly in his talons. It took all Adrien had in him to keep from keening. Instead, his mandibles tilted in a small smile and he beckoned his fledgling toward him.

“I’m awake, Tarquin. Come on.”

Despite it having been a few days, his son was still limping a bit from the cuts on the bottom of his feet. In his rage, he’d shattered glass in the bedroom. Tarquin had stepped on the shards. That moment he knew would haunt him for the rest of his days, he could only pray that Tarquin would forget with time.

Medigel designed for children healed wounds slower so that it didn’t hurt and he’d been slow to act, getting the cuts cleaned and bandaged in his drunken stupor. Given another day or two, Tarquin’s feet would stop feeling so tender. They simply needed more time. 

The patter of his feet stopped when he reached the edge of the couch.

“Can’t sleep?” Adrien asked.

Tarquin shook his head and reached for him. Adrien helped him climb on top of his chest and after a moment, settled him against his carapace. It couldn’t have been particularly comfortable for him but he was too big to fit inside the rim of his cowl. Adrien missed those days, now more than ever.

To think it had only been a few weeks since they’d fallen asleep here, reading about history and Separatists. To think… it had only been weeks since he’d lost two of his own men. Were their families like him? Lying awake at night?

“Dad?” Tarquin chirped.

He was drawn back to reality. “Hm?”

“Story?”

“Of course,” he nodded, running one hand along Tarquin’s soft cowl in smooth waves. He was attempting to comfort himself as much as he was his child. “What about?”

Tarquin gripped the rim of his cowl a little tighter, the tiny talons pricking his hide. “Mom.”

His breath caught around the scent of her shirt. Adrien’s nose was filled with it and he clutched his grieving child to his chest even tighter. “Okay,” his voice was quiet and halting, but he couldn’t deny him. So he said: “I’ll tell you about mom.”

\---


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4

\---

Adrien stood a few paces behind Tarquin at the outdoor range. His eyes closed as he inhaled the scent of heated metal and the warm breeze passing over his plates. It was a glorious day to be outside if there ever was one. Trebia’s rays beamed down on his back and if he listened closely enough, over the sound of gunfire, he could hear the native fauna chirping beyond the forest’s edge.

In front of him, Tarquin was staring at the rifle he’d just finished assembling. His mandibles were pinched into his jaw and eyes narrowed. He’d yet to take it out of the opened case.

Tilting his head to the side, he watched on as Tarquin’s hands rose to touch it. Before they’d even stepped foot on the range, he’d shown his son how to clean and care for it just as his own father had done with him. A gun was not a toy. It was a responsibility. Tarquin took it seriously. Never playing with it or attempting to remove it from the safe without Adrien watching him. He had always been a good turian, he followed the rules set out for him. 

Now, however, watching the hesitation, Adrien though that perhaps it was too soon to have brought him out. His son’s subvocals warbled nervously. 

“Tarquin?” he questioned, taking a pace closer to the rifle bench. 

The smaller turian shook his head and Adrien stopped, waiting for him to be ready. “What if I’m not good?” Tarquin looked up at him, his eyes pinched and worried.

“No one is good at first,” Adrien told him as he put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. “It takes practice, years sometimes.”

Tarquin looked back down the lane, his target was a stationary hologram and it flickered as a small swarm of bugs flew through it. After a moment he picked up the rifle and held it as he’d been instructed, cradling the fore-end with his left arm and pinning the stock to his right shoulder. His finger rested outside the trigger guard and he dropped his eye to the sight for a moment before looking up at him, searching for approval.

“Good,” Adrien hummed warmly, his mandibles flicking into a smile. “Now adjust your feet, too.”

“Right!” Tarquin chirped and quickly moved his feet into a braced position, the left in front of the right. He dropped his eye back to the sight. 

“Now, breathe.” He calmed his own breaths, offering what aid he could without being invasive. They’d spent hours together going over the basics, likely more time than some recruits would receive before they reached basic. “Find your balance.”

Following his lead, Tarquin did as instructed and when his talon slipped down into the trigger guard and he pulled down for the first time… nothing happened. 

He jerked back from the sight, pointing the barrel down at the ground in the lane. “What?”

Adrien couldn’t stop his smile as he tapped safety on the side of the rifle. “Safety was on. Try again.”

Instead of letting the blue flush that had rushed to his neck stop him, Tarquin shook off the setback and resettled the rifle in his arms. This time before he lined up, a soft click of the safety being taken off met Adrien before the sound of gunfire erupted from his rifle. Once the thermal clip reached a maximal heat, Tarquin dropped his arms and placed the rifle down on the bench. 

Before Adrien could compliment him, Tarquin had wrapped his arms around his waist. “I did it!”

This time, the Captain’s grin was not from amusement. It was born of pride. “You did, Tarquin.”

\---


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5

\---

Stepping through the front door, Adrien dropped his ruck and leaned into the wall to remove his boots. It had been a longer than normal tour for him, two months away from home. He wanted nothing more than to collapse in bed and sleep away the next two days. When the second boot thudded to the floor, he began working his talons through the clasps of his uniform jacket.

A noise from the kitchen alerted him to the fact he wasn’t alone. Instinctively, his hand fell to the pistol on his belt. He took a few limping paces forward, trying to keep the weight off his injured left leg.

“Who’s there?” Adrien boomed.

“Dad?” Tarquin’s deepening voice chirped from the other room. It must have dropped an octave in the time he’d been gone but it was still unmistakable to him.

The air left Adrien’s lungs in a great whoosh. He hadn’t expected him to be home yet. He straightened, releasing the gun and stepping out from around the corner.

His son stood behind the island, a smile spreading his mandibles. Adrien almost had to do a double take, not only had he grown a few centimetres but his fringe had started to grow too. Around him, the kitchen was busy with what Adrien could only assume was a three course meal.  

His nose was still full of ash and the smell of his own blood. A stray fist had nearly broken his nasal ridge and it was still swollen up even days later. He hadn’t been able to smell anything, let alone the meal when he stepped through the door. 

“I thought you were on the base still,” Adrien informed him. 

Tarquin’s head tilted to the side and his words were a little slow as he replied. “I received leave early. Reamus’ mother is off tour today. She took me home.”

“Ah, that’s fine then.” Adrien hid the limp as well as he could and stepped up to the island. “How was school?”

“Good! We’ve entered the Unification wars in history. Our survival course is next month,” Tarquin replied looking proud of himself as he turned to stir whatever was bubbling on the heating element. When he turned back around, he canted his head to the side. “Is my Invictus common getting better?”

“What?”

Tarquin’s mandible slid out to the side, his eyes showing his confusion. “You’re speaking Invictan, dad.”

For a brief moment, Adrien was stunned to silence. His tongue felt thick and dry in his mouth and the weight of the last two months under cover on the Invictus colony dragged him down onto the kitchen stool. One hand slid through the blades of his fringe, they’d only been returned to their natural grey colour earlier that day. His plates had been darkened for the mission and his colony marks covered to make him barefaced.

“That wasn’t intentional, was it?” Tarquin asked. His change back to Imperan was noticeable, his words were no longer stilted. 

“No, Tarquin. It wasn’t.”

His eyes were closed and Adrien didn’t open them until he felt Tarquin’s presence at his side. A careful hand dropped onto his shoulder and when Adrien looked up he found himself looking into the eyes of someone much wiser than their years. Tarquin wasn’t even leaving for service for another three months. 

“Can you talk about it?”

Adrien shook his head. “Classified.”

Tarquin simply nodding and headed back to the pot, giving it another stir. Already he understood what was required of an officer. Pride welled up in the father’s chest, he was too proud to voice it properly and instead hummed his gratitude and praise.

“Hungry at least?”

“Always, what did you make?”

\---


	6. Chapter 6

Part 6

\---

Piloting the skycar to Cipritine’s main spaceport, Adrien couldn’t help feeling a wave of nostalgia wash over him. He glanced up into the rearview mirror, eyeing his son in the back seat. Tarquin had his sea-green eyes down on a datapad.

Where he’d own gaze had been fixed to - _ Advanced Directives of Battle Tactics Past and Present _ \- that day, thirty years ago. He knew Tarquin had his head in - _ Making Rations Edible: 101-. _ The differences and similarities made him smile all the same.

As he brought the skycar down he heard a small hum of worry. When they stopped, he turned around to see Tarquin staring out the window. His mandibles wavered in and out from his jaw, his talons scraped against the fabric of his newly issued dress uniform. There wasn’t a wrinkle to be seen in his clothes. As professional as Adrien had been, he’d never been quite as much of a perfectionist as his son.

“Anything you wanted to talk about before we go out?” he asked, keeping his words gentle and subvocals open.

Tarquin shook his head once. “No.”

“You’re going to be great, Tarquin,” Adrien reassured him, his mandible tilting into a small smile. He wished Magrim was here to see him off. That she’d been there to watch him become the turian he was today. He was so damn proud of him.

“What… what if…” he stopped and let out a low key warble in distress. “What if I’m not?”

This moment was so different from when his own parents dropped him off. While he had been arrogant and all too ready to prove himself to his father, Tarquin was a bundle of nerves. He wondered how Mags had felt when her clan dropped her off, with sloppily painted markings and her hands busy with her trinkets.

“You’re going to be the best you can be,” Adrien told him. “That’s all I ask. Find your strengths, take time to make friends. This months will be hard but you’re ready.”

Tarquin set his mandibles against his jaw and nodded. He stepped out of the vehicle first and Adrien followed a moment later. Once the doors were closed, Tarquin faced him and whipped out a professional salute. “I’ll make you proud, dad.”

Accepting it, Adrien grinned and then held out his arms. Taking a hug, too. “You already have, Tarquin.”

\---

**Author's Note:**

> Beta reader to be revealed at author reveals!


End file.
